


The moon flies face to face with me

by Selena



Category: 18th Century CE Frederician RPF, 18th Century CE RPF
Genre: Character Study, Dysfunctional Family, Dysfunctional Relationships, First Love, M/M, Sibling Rivalry, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-03-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:21:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23080882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selena/pseuds/Selena
Summary: February 1746: The Second Silesian War is over, Prince Henry of Prussia is 19 years old and falls in love for the first time. Unexpectly, he finds himself in a triangle with his brother and King, Frederick the Great...
Relationships: August Wilhelm von Preußen (1722-1758) & Friedrich Heinrich Ludwig von Preußen (1726-1802), Friedrich Heinrich Ludwig von Preußen (1726-1802)/Marwitz the Page, Friedrich II von Preußen | Frederick the Great & Friedrich Heinrich Ludwig von Preußen (1726-1802), Friedrich II von Preußen | Frederick the Great & Other(s)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 16





	The moon flies face to face with me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [iberiandoctor (Jehane)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jehane/gifts).



> **Author's Note** : Inevitably, the traumatic death in Frederick's backstory gets referenced, though it's not a main focus. If you want to know more about the historical canon for the Heinrich-Friedrich-Marwitz triangle, check out [this entry](https://rheinsberg.dreamwidth.org/919.html). All the letters quoted in this story are authentic.

Realising that you have reached your final height, and it is below avarage in an already not tall family: it should not matter, not at a time when there‘s so much else to celebrate: another war won for the King, and for Heinrich the fact he not only survived his first battles but managed to do so distinguishing himself. Still, it irks him. He‘s just turned nineteen, and he‘d like to have it all: glory _and_ height, survival _and_ a handsome face. For he‘s lacking this, too. His face is, at best, comely. Like an adolescent, less impressive version of the King’s, who isn’t handsome, either, but has a way of making you look at him when he’s in the room regardless. Had this even before ascending to the throne.

„You are a lot like your royal brother“, says Bielfeld, one of the King‘s friends whom he had appointed to tutor Heinrich when their father died and Friedrich took over his younger siblings‘ education along with everything else.  
„Which one?“ Heinrich asked back, wideeyed. „All my brothers are royal.“  
Bielffeld is not, Bielfeld isn’t even noble by birth, which means he‘s prone to be a bit too impressed by the King by default.  
„As I said“, Bielfeld returns, unperturbed.

But that was before the last war, and now that this war is over, Silesia seems to be Prussia‘s for good, except they already thought so the last time. Heinrich doesn‘t quite know what to do with himself, undersized, not handsome, and lacking deeds heroic enough to make people note beyond a compliment or two, so he throws himself into celebrating the Carnival season. It‘s a great one. Carnival in Berlin starts in December already, which just happens to have coincided with the peace the King has made with the Austrians. A lot of the masquerades are build around honoring him, and he does seem in a rare celebratory mood, except if you look very closely and watch him snap at at their sister Amalie, who is dressed like Cleopatra, Queen of Egypt. This despite the fact the King had ordered Graun’s opera about Caesar and Cleopatra to be produced in celebration of his victory, has made a celebration of Rome this carnival's main subject.

„I wish my sisters showed better judgment,“ the King says, which may or may not be about the ongoing argument he‘s having with their oldest, his most favourite sister, who has dared to share a meal and conversation with his enemy Maria Theresia, the Queen of Hungary, while he was still fighting her.

„Himself has been in a _mood_ lately,“ someone observes next to Heinrich who is watching this sibling encounter with some mystification, and he turns around to see one of the most beautiful youths he‘s ever met, grinning at him with an impish smile. „I guess we‘ve got my cousin to blame.“

„Your cousin?“ Heinrich stammers, suddenly tongue-tied, which he usually isn‘t, not at all. But the young man in front of him is all Heinrich wishes he were, tall, broad-shouldered, with the Roman legionary‘s costume he‘s wearing making him look like a vision out of the history books. His brown eyes twinkle.

„Ah. I was hoping you‘d recognize me, your highness. I have the honor of belonging to the noble family von der Marwitz, just like your oldest sister‘s lady-in-waiting whom she's married to an Austrian count, much to your noble brother's anger.“

At this point, Heinrich could not have cared less about family arguments. He wants this gorgeous man to keep talking to him. More stammering certainly won‘t do the trick, and so he desperately forces his mind to come up with one of those quips the King is never in short supply of. It seems the King does have a point about the use of education after all.

„And here I thought your cousin was Portia at least“, he said, indicating the other‘s costume. „Given that you‘re dressed as Brutus.“

„Brutus? Never. I‘m Antony“, the youth exclaims in mock indignation, „before his fall, content to serve great Caesar“, pointing at Heinrich‘s oldest brother, who has moved on from snapping at his present sister to punish the absent one and is now accepting more fawning tributes from various foreign dignitaries.

And Antony, Marwitz remains for Heinrich. He‘s indeed a member of that very large and very old noble family, currently serving as page to the King, and blatantly hoping this will lead to greater things.

„If that is why you have approached me, you‘re wasting your time,“ Heinrich tells him while they‘re riding through the Brandenburg snow. „I‘m his least favourite brother.“

„That is not why,“ Antony says, and looks at Heinrich with a mixture of impudence and hunger. No one has ever looked at him this way, as if he was desirable, He is the thirteenth child born to King Friedrich Wilhelm in Prussia and Queen Sophia Dorotha of Hannover, the ninth to survive, which means that beyond basic deference to a prince, people so far tended not to pay him much attention. It is a heady, bewitching brew, this, finding himself desired by someone who might as well have stepped out of his secret fantasies, and Heinrich falls in love for the first time, with all the urgency and bewilderement of his nineteen years. He finds he can‘t get enough of Antony‘s presence, of the sound of his voice, the touch of his hands, and one pale Berlin morning when their companions have stumbled off to sleep off their hangover, they kiss in the frozen garden of Charlottenburg. They barely make it back into Heinrich‘s suite of rooms before tearing each other‘s clothes of. It‘s a good thing Antony is not wearing Roman armor that night, but a French shephard‘s dress, so much easier to remove.

* * *

The King notices. Or someone else does, and tells him, but either way, the King interrupts Heinrich‘s daysdreams when they‘re having a rare family breakfast to say: „You are aware the Carnival will soon be over, little brother, aren‘t you?“

His fantasies of Antony rudely interrupted, Heinrich barely restrains himself from rolling his eyes. „How kind of your majesty of remind me of the date,“ he says. „None of us would even know how to count if your grace hadn‘t seen to it we were finally educated as befits your brothers.“

He _is_ getting better at sarcasm, it seems. The King, who likes a salient reply as long as he‘s still the wittiest man in the room, narrows his eyes at Heinrich, but the corners of his mouth twitch.

„Quite. Just show yourself worthy of the education you‘ve gotten“, the King says softly. „Even fool‘s season must end.“

An uncomfortable suspicion arises in Heinrich, and as soon as he can, he seeks out Antony and pulls him aside.

„Did the King tell you to approach me, that day?“

„Of course not. Why would he?“

But Antony‘s eyes do not quite meet Heinrich‘s, and something in Heinrich goes cold. Of all the condescending things to do. And of course Antony - Marwitz - who wants to advance, and whose family is currently courting royal disfavour due to his cousin, obeyed without hesitation.

„I hope it wasn‘t too much of a sacrifice,“ Heinrich says bitterly.

„Not at all“, Antony protests, thereby admitting it. „I love you! I swear I do!“

There is something ugly and dark in Heinrich that awakens right there and then, and gives him an idea. He tries to push it away, but he‘s too angry to. Maybe Antony is telling the truth now, and maybe he‘s not. There‘s a way to test it.

„If you truly love me...“

„I do!“

„Then you won‘t hesitate to do for me what you did for him.“

Antony stares at him. „What?“

„I take it he said something along the lines of feeling sorry for his ugly little brother, and how you should do something about it. Well, I feel sorry for the King. He does get a lot of fawning, but I‘d be very surprised if he gets more. He wouldn‘t be in such a terrible mood so often if he did.“

„Henri“, Antony says, very seriously, „this is insane. He‘s the King. Don‘t ask this of me. It could ruin my life. He can send me to the gallows if the mood strikes him.“

The shame in Heinrich is as fierce as the earlier wish to lash out had been. However much he‘s disappointed that Antony did not at first talk to him for his own sake, it‘s true that the King holds all their lives in his hands, and he can‘t wish danger on the man he loves, can he? This is not how love should be.

„I‘m sorry“, Heinrich says, crushed, and the relief in Antony‘s face is overwhelming. So overwhelming that he makes the mistake of saying: „You know I‘d do anything else for you, don‘t you?“

Unfortunately, Heinrich does not know that. He doesn‘t know that at all. And he really needs to find out. He needs to know that he means something beyond royal favour now to Antony, that the terrible need he feels inside whenever Antony is near is shared.

„Good“, he says, and wishes desperately he was a better person than the one who then proceeds to tell Antony just how he can prove it.

* * *

The King has made it very clear by now to all and sunder that he has, at best, only a remote respect for the Queen, and no warmer emotion for any other women he’s not related to. Still, he enjoys dancing, and so he participates in one of the greatest carnival balls. Since outside of the Carnival seasons, he hardly graces Berlin with his presence, he’s constantly surrounded by people, and so it takes him a while to discover his younger brother Heinrich and the page Marwitz, but discover them he does. Marwitz, who like all the royal pages is supposed to wear a costume that fits thematically with his master’s choice of the season, which is ancient Rome, is dressed instead as a Turk. Just like Heinrich is. And when he’s sure that his oldest brother’s eyes are on them, Heinrich turns towards Marwitz and kisses him on the lips.

Later that night, one of his brother’s servants comes to him and tells Heinrich the King wishes to talk to him. This, in ordinary circumstances, would be rare by itself. The King is fourteen years older than Heinrich, not quite old enough to be his father, but old enough to ensure they saw little of each other during their father’s life time. Afterwards, the King has been fully occupied with earning himself glory, though somehow he has always found time to hand down instructions of how his younger sibling should be raised. The lengthiest time Heinrich has spent with the King so far was during the last autumn, serving at his side while the King was battling Austrians, and that didn’t allow much in the way of personal conversations, though it has certainly been instructive.

„Heinrich,“ the King says, using the German version of the name, which is another rare thing. The King hates the German language as much as their father has loved it. „What do you think you’re doing?“

Heinrich considers pretending he has no idea what the King is talking about, but abandons the idea.

„Showing my gratitude, Sire,“ he replies instead. „For a most considerate gift.“

In truth, he doesn’t have a plan, and he has no idea what he wants, beyond spoiling for some confrontation of sorts, because the King is everywhere, ever present, the rapidly growing gigantic shadow whom he keeps being compared to, and shouldn’t he at least absent himself from the matters of the heart? Falling in love with Antony – with Marwitz – should have been solely been inspired by their mutual affection. And whatever his intention, by sending Marwitz Heinrich’s way, the King has made it about himself instead.

The King stares at him. Like most of their family, he has blue eyes; his come with intense colouring and, right now, a very focused gaze. Heinrich, very aware his own eyes are lighter, like a washed up, greyish version of the dark blue original, refuses to look down.

„You don’t know how lucky you are,“ the King says at last. „Time to grow up. More than time.“

There are only two days more of the Carnival season left, the last two, the wildest of the season. Then the King will return to Potsdam with his household. Originally, Marwitz was supposed not to have any obligations until then, and he and Heinrich had been planning to spend those last two days together, but now a short note is delivered to Heinrich saying that the King has ordered Marwitz to attend him till Ash Wednesday.

This is just spite. Heinrich should let it rest, he knows; the King will likely forget about it, he has so many other things to think of, and, of course, quite a lot of other pages. But now Heinrich’s own imagination torments him and makes him wonder whether that awful idea he’d first had during his argument with Marwitz, the one he abandoned, shamed, whether that idea won’t be made truth by the King who has their father’s gift of making fears into reality.

Consequently, Heinrich changes his own plans, and goes to attend his oldest brother. Who neither asks what he’s doing there nor sends him away. Instead, the King has Marwitz drink from the same cup of coffee Marwitz is serving him while the King reads through his letter, making a joke about foretasters. The King suddenly decides he needs to change his waistcoat, and has Marwitz help him into a new one. The King pinches Marwitz‘ cheeks and pronounces him in need to lose some weight, saying he seems to have been stuffing himself too much with sweets lately, time to eat healthier, eat like a man.

Then, as if noticing Heinrich is standing amidst the royal entourage, he looks up and says: „You look sick, little brother. Too much carnival, I think. You have my permission to withdraw.“

* * *

The pages attending the King sleep in the antechambre of the royal bedroom. Marwitz is in his last year as a page, soon he’ll be too old, He does look younger in his night clothes, though, which is what he’s wearing when Heinrich pulls himself through the window he’s been knocking on for the last five minutes.

„Are you insane?“ Marwitz ask, sounding exasparated. „Begging your highness permission: are you out of your mind, Henri?“

„Maybe, a little,“ Heinrich says frankly, and looks around. „Where’s the other page?“  
There should be two, after all.

Marwitz shrugs. „Celebrating the Carnival elsewhere as long as it lasts, I guess.“ His face is starting to lose its worried look, and his devilish smile which Heinrich fell in love with returns. „So my prince has come for me through the window, like in the fairy tale. I suppose that does deserve a reward. But if you don’t mind, we’ll leave through the door. And hope nobody catches us on the way to your room.“ His warm, warm fingers trace a line down Heinrich’s throat. „You need to get warm quickly, my dear.“

„Why leave at all, then?“ Heinrich asks back. His heart hammers. For once, Marwitz looks speechless. „Since no one else is here,“ Heinrich adds.

„Your royal brother is right in the next room,“ Marwitz hisses.

„We’ll be very quiet then. Or are you scared?“ Heinrich challenges. Princes, pages, eighteen or nineteen years, they are alike in this: no young man can let such a challenge go.

So Heinrich ends up having sex in the antechambre of his brother’s bedroom, standing against a wall, with Antony – Marwitz – taking Heinrich’s cock into his mouth and swallowing, with a practised ease that shows he’s already quite experienced in this. Heinrich has his left hand pressed against his mouth to prevent even an involuntary noise emerging, but inevitably, as if ordained by fate, the door to his brother’s bedroom opens and just as Heinrich is about to come, he can see the King in the door frame, fully dressed, so evidently havng been full awake this entire time. They look at each other, and Heinrich lets go. His hand, his breath, his sperm in Marwitz‘ mouth; the heatwave shacking his entire body is like nothing he’s ever experienced before.

It seems like an eternity until the King finally turns around and withdraws into his bedroom again, closing the door behind him. Marwitz, who seemingly hasn’t noticed anything, gets up from his knees.

„Who’s afraid now?“ he asks, wiping his mouth. „Your turn, Monseigneur.“

* * *

In a fitting irony, after all this, Heinrich really does get sick. He comes down with the flu as the Carnival ends, which means he can't join the rest of the royal family as it moves from Berlin to Potsdam. "Lucky you", says his favourite brother Wilhelm, the second oldest and Prince of Prussia, as he visits Heinrich, nursing a hangover himself. Wilhelm has celebrated the Carnival with his usual enthusiasm and is blessedly unaware of anything he shouldn't know. "He's in a terrible mood. Still. I have letters from our sister in Bayreuth, and I would love to help, but the way it looks right now, the King won't be any more approachable until the new palace is finished and he can move in, leaving the rest of us behind."

The new palace, Sanssouci, is based on the King's own drawings and has been started two years ago, with one more year as an estimated building time to go. Until then, the King lives in the same Hohenzollern palace at Potsdam his father used, and his unmarried brothers with him. It's only Wilhelm, who is married and a father already, who has his own residence.

"So the Firstborns are still at odds?" Heinrich asks. This was what they were calling the King and the oldest of their sisters, Wilhelmine, among themselves, when they were children: the Firstborn. The Firstborn have always been a law to themselves, and so much older that Heinrich, when still very young, had even thought they were his parents once. They never used to quarrel, not then.

Wilhelm looks pained. He hates arguments, Wilhelm does; which is why the rest of them always asked him to intervene with their father, and now with the King.

"He still hasn't forgiven her for meeting the Queen of Hungary," Wilhelm says, "nor for the Marwitz business."

Heinrich flinches. His head aches, and he can't disguise the hoarseness of his voice. "What Marwitz business?"

"Our sister's lady-in-waiting, one of the Marwitz girls. She's married her to an Austrian. The entire family is still in a panic about that, haven't you noticed? Even the cousin, the one serving as a page. He's so desperate that he's been making cow eyes at the King."

"He does not!" Heinrich exclaims, and to his eternal shame, bursts into tears. He blames the flu. Mercifully, Wilhelm pretends to do the same, despite looking worried, and offering his own house as refuge to Heinrich as soon as Heinrich gets better.

Of this, there is no immediate sign. Heinrich sweats, sneezes, coughs, drinks gallons of tea and gets letters from Potsdam, sent to him via royal messengers. Not, though, from his Antony. No, the letters are from the King. The first one arrives just after March has begun and reads: _  
Don't go out again too early, and allow your body time to recover. Your little favourite is doing very well, and if he remains good, you'll soon see him again. Right now, he's pining for love and is composing elegies full of hot kisses in your honor which he intends to give you upon your return. I advise you not to exhaust yourself so that you have enough strength to express your love. The happiness of the immortals will not be equal to yours, and you will be able to drink rivers of lust in the arms of your beloved. Adieu, mon cher Henri. I hope your illness will be the last with which you will worry my friendship for you, and that I shall soon be able to enjoy your amiable company without having to worry about you._

It takes considerable discipline not to turn this letter into a paperball. Instead, Heinrich starts to fold it, systematically, into ever smaller folders, while trying to puzzle out what it all means. One long taunt? Or is the King seriously concerned, beneath it all? Wilhelm swears the King does care for them, but then Wilhelm sees the good in everyone. Wilhelm was sure their father loved them all, too, and Heinrich has his own opinion about this, which he takes care never to voice to his brother, who'd been the late King's favourite son.

He imagines Antony - Marwitz - in his page's uniform, looking desolate, longing. But then why didn't Marwitz write himself? Or did he, and the King hasn't allowed the letter to go through, as punishment for the sight that Heinrich had presented him with that night?

There are, of course, other things the King could do in punishment. Heinrich allows himself to be bled just to get this most inconvenient sickness over with sooner and writes a letter to Marwitz, swears his love and urges Marwitz to reply as soon as he possibly can. One day passes, two, even three, and then, at last, there's another letter. Still not from Antony, though. It's from the King. Again. And this time, there's no mistaking the intention between the letters dancing in front of Heinrich's feverish eyes.

_My dear Heinrich, no, there is no crueller martyrdom than separation! How to live for a moment without the one you love? Our sighs travel on country roads, and we pour our heart out as messages of our unhappy souls flying away like doves. Oh! Oh! The faithless man has forgotten me! says a certain person. Already a day has passed without a sigh of his has reached me! Surely, he's become faithless! He doesn't love me anymore! No, he doesn't love me anymore! If I had the courage, I'd tell this charming sad person: "That's no more than you deserve, you damned whore! Didn't you want to infect my poor brother with your gonorhoe? Oh! If he listened to me, he'd turn his love towards a worthier object and would send you to hell with all your nice little qualities, of which your venereal disease, your vanity, your lies and your recklessness are but the least.  
I do apologize for having committed the sacrilege of having dared to speak so dismissively of your angel's qualities. I do hope you'll forgive me._

"How now, your royal highness?" the servant asks in concern while Heinrich finishes throwing up into the next basin. "I thought the doctor said you were on your way to recovery!"

It's not true, Heinrich thinks desperately, it's not true. He's just playing games. He's angry with me, and this is his punishment. None of it is true. Maybe he's even jealous. Yes, everyone fawns around him, but Antony is beautiful, and he loves beauty. Jealousy, that must be it. How could he possibly know whether or not Marwitz is infected?

His mind points out that there was one way in which the King could, indeed, know all about Marwitz' most intimate regions, and their state of health. But if that were true, why would the King have pointed Marwitz Heinrich's way to begin with? He might be malicious, but not that malicious. Or is he?

Heinrich narrows his eyes at the letter again, and the urge to throw up returns. This time, he swallows it down. This is a test, he decides. By fate, or by the King; he doesn't care. It is a test. If Heinrich ignores all these insinuations, then he will have proved that he does, in fact, love and is worthy to be loved in return.

So he writes another letter to Potsdam, to Marwitz, ignoring everything the King has said. To the King, he writes tersely, thanking him for his brotherly concern, asking him not to be concerned any longer, for there was no doubt in Heinrich that the one he loved was faithful and true. Then, despising himself, he asks the doctor whether the flu plagueing him might not be a flu after all, but possibly the sign of an infection.

"I take it your royal highness has enjoyed the Carnival a bit too strongly," the doctor retorts, amused. "Ah, youth! Well, I hadn't considered it before. Of course, some of the early symptoms might be similar. Let that be a lesson to you. For all that love is sweet, regret can last a life time. If you give me permission to a more detailed examination of the, hm, regions in question, we might able to clear this up."

Heinrich grinds his teeth and gives his permission. It's humiliating and awful, being touched there with such an intent where he's discovered the greatest ecstasies only ten days ago. Finally, the doctor pronounces him healthy, at least in this regard. Which would be good to know except there's already a new letter from Potsdam, brought by a returning messenger.

_There is little more admirable than your fidelity. Since Pharamon and Rosamunde, Cyrus and Mandone, Pierre de Provence and the beautiful Madlone one hasn't seen the like. If you'll allow me, I'll write a novel titled "Fidelity. Love. Henri and the beautiful Marwitz", and it would be a novel so delicate, so tender, so sentimental and so sensual that it would be instructive to our youth. I would paint the gonorhea-ridden Marwitz in such lovely colors, I'd equip him with all the wit he believes himself to have, and I would above all describe all his coy affectations, as far as I was able to, with which he seems to signal silently to everyone: 'Look at me, am I not a pretty boy? Doesn't everyone have to love me, adore me, worship me? What, you little villain, you resist? You haven't yet put your heart at my feet? As for you, my angel, you'll have to die of love for me.'  
Afterwards, I must describe the details of his figure, the charm of his wide shoulders, his supposedly heavy but actually seductive walk - in a word - but I can't continue, for otherwise my novel will be written by someone else. To you, my dear Heinrich, I reccommend to eat a lot, drink a lot and sleep a lot. Stay for some more days in Berlin, and do justice to my tenderness for you._

The King is a jealous bastard, Heinrich decides, bent on destroying what he can't have, and that is all. Antony is innocent. And Heinrich has almost failed love's test, he did fail, in a way, by asking the doctor to begin with. Antony must never know. His skin feels still clammy and feverish, but Heinrich decides he needs to get up and go to Potsdam, to prove to Antony that he believes in him, the King be damned.

* * *

The four miles to Potsdam have never seemed so long. In the Potsdam City Palace, he runs into his brother's chamberlain, valet and servant for all known and unknown matters at the same time, Michael Gabriel Fredersdorf, who takes one look at him and then, gently but firmly, says: "Your highness, you are still not well. Forgive me, but I cannot allow you to see the King in this state. I would fail in my duties if I did."

"I do not want to see the King", Heinrich says. "I need to visit a friend of mine. One of the pages."

"But the pages are with the King so often that this would amount to the same thing", Fredersdorf says, all steel beneath a kind veneer. "Allow me to organize a carriage back to Berlin for you, your highness. You really should not be in the saddle in your condition."

After a life time of being ordered around, Heinrich almost caves. Then he catches himself. Maybe he's the second youngest in a large family, but he _is_ a prince. He's survived Austrians bent on killing or at least wounding him. He can deal with the King's Pomeranian factotum.

"I am where I want to be," Heinrich says, crossing his arms. "If you want me to leave, you'll have to send the Page Marwitz to me, at once. If you do that, the King won't even learn I was here. If you don't, on the other hand, I will make a scene, and scream loud enough that they hear it in Berlin. Which is it to be?"

Fredersdorf gives him a long look, and mutters something about peas in a pod. Then he sighs and tells Heinrich to wait, but not in one of the salons. Instead, Heinrich finds himself in one of the tiny chambers usually inhabited by servants, several of them, but for now empty. And there, not ten minutes later, he sees his Antony again.

Marwitz _is_ very pale, and down right stomps in as if angry. _His supposedly heavy but actually seductive walk_ , the sharp voice of the King inside of Heinrich whispers.

"For God's sake, Henri", Marwitz says. "Are you _trying_ to get me dismissed? My family really can't afford another one of us falling into disgrace. I thought you understood that!"

During Heinrich's childhood, his father had insisted that all the princes were to be cleaned with icy cold water, to harden themselves. The effect of Marwitz' words is somewhat similar.

"I thought you wanted to see me," Heinrich whispers. Antony's look softens.

"I did. I do. But we have to play this carefully. For some reason, your noble brother seems to dislike you favouring me. I don't understand why, because you were right, he was the one who told me I should talk to you to begin with. But there it is. He'll get over it, I don't doubt it, he's never taken an interest in a page for long. We'll just have to wait a few days. Maybe some weeks. And then..."

"Then nothing", says a new voice. The King's. Who is standing in the entrance to the tiny servant's room. "He's seen now what you are, haven't you, brother?" The king gestures with his chin to Marwitz. "Out," he says, and Marwitz flees, without hesitation. Then the King steps closer to Heinrich. He's back to wearing uniform today, and no wig. His thick brown hair curs around his face, and his eyes seem to drill into Heinrich.

"So," the King says, softly. "Did you learn your lesson?"

"And what lesson is that?" Heinrich asks back, refusing to be intimidated. To show just how unafraid he is of this brother who could do to him what their late father has done to the King when the later was still a prince, he makes himself mirror the King's movement and take a step towards the King.

"Challenging me is a terrible idea. When I tell you someone isn't worth anything, he's not," the King says. "When I tell you to do something, you do it. This is really not too hard to understand, even for a young fool of nineteen."

Anything sane and Wilhelm-like in Heinrich screams at him to nod, make his bow and get out of there. But he's sick, sick not just in body but in his mind, because only a sick man would go from grieving that the man he loves is under the power of a tyrant to feeling alert and alive and very clear, very sharp, like he hasn't since his first time on a battlefield. And just like that time, he sees an opening for a precise and lethal strike.

"You would know about being a young fool of nineteen, Sire," Heinrich says, equally softly. "As I recall, you spent that time locked up in a fortress. At least no one has died for _my_ folly."

In a moment, he realizes two things: he has landed a hit, and he has gone too far. His brother's arms shoot out, and he has pinned Heinrich against the wall in no time flat. Since becoming King, his oldest brother has gained weight, but he's still wiry, in the shape of a man with several years in the field just behind him, and, right now, lethally angry.

"You ungrateful little wretch", the King hisses, and as he speaks, the breath he exhales touches Heinrich's face. It feels like standing on a precipe, this close together, and Heinrich really has no idea what falling would entail. "You have no idea. None."

And maybe he doesn't. He had been four years old, when it all happened. While he does have some memories from that terrible year, violent memories, he did not truly understand what their father had done, and why, nor why his oldest brother had disappeared and would not return until more than a year later, briefly, for their sister's wedding. Being told there'd been an execution for that disappeared oldest brother to watch did not equal understanding; the King their father had people executed every year. It wasn't until years later that Heinrich had been able to put the pieces together. He sees now he'd still been missing one, and it is this: the King, the current King, his brother, he still carries a bit from that year in him. He has all the power now, but not in his heart. Because none of that power can make that long ago execution undone.

Heinrich imagines losing Marwitz this way, having to watch him not just flee from a room, shamed, but die under an executioner's sword, and suddenly it does all feel upside down, his own grievance petty. Maybe that is why the King can't stand the sight of anyone in love. Not because, as Heinrich had assumed until now, he wants Marwitz for himself. Because the one he wants is gone.

"Fools rarely do," Heinrich says, and his words sound strange to his ears. He's never apologized to his older brother before, not in a way where he meant it. He still thinks the King had no right to interfere in Heinrich's love affair, of course. But he's equally aware that he himself should not have said what he just did.

The problem with apologies in their family is that whoever holds the highest power usually demands them so completely at any given opportunity that they have lost all meaning. It is hard to find a way to say something that is not meant as empty submission to the royal will, and yet maintain one's sense of self.

Lacking the proper words or any way to say them, Heinrich decides to go for a gesture to show that in this, one, single regard, he is sorry. He has not touched this oldest brother out of his own initiative for years, not since paying homage to him as the new King on the day of their father's death. Now, with the King's hands holding his shoulders to the wall and thus limiting his freedom of movement considerably, he hesitates a moment longer, then bends his head forward and briefly, lightly, kisses the King on the lips. It is the only gesture he could think of right now, and he's meant to draw back immediately, but the King, perhaps because no one touches him without his explicit permission anymore, freezes, and so it lasts a heartbeat longer than it should. A jolt runs through Heinrich, and he closes his eyes. Abruptly, the King lets him go and steps away.

"You can go," the King says roughly. "And don't bother me with your silly little romances again."

* * *

Heinrich allows himself to be bundled into a carriage back to Berlin in a daze. After two more days, his fever and the remnants of his cold are finally gone. But if he thought he'd finally reached some insight into the King, he turns out to be sorely mistaken. A distraught Marwitz shows up in Charlottenburg just as Heinrich gets ready to leave Berlin for Potsdam, officially, and there are tears in his eyes.

"He has dismissed me," Antony says. "From his service. You have to fix this. Please. My father will not forgive me if he finds out I've ruined this chance to make up for cousin Dorothea's disgrace."

He has rarely looked more beautiful, and yet, it's not passion that Heinrich feels as he looks at Marwitz anymore, or not so much passion as a sense of obligation and outraged justice. Antony truly hasn't done anything but try to serve his sovereign, and whether or not he really feels love for Heinrich is immaterial right now. The entire Marwitz family should not be taken to task for getting involved into Hohenzollern family arguments.

This time, Heinrich dresses in uniform as well, which he hasn't worn since their victorious return to Berlin. He makes a plan well ahead of being granted a royal audience, and keeps his distance from the King after making his bow. When he has finished his plea for the page Marwitz to be reinstalled into the royal service, the King says icily: "I thought I told you not to bother me with your silly romances again."

"I am not asking for myself," Heinrich says, forcing his voice to remain even. "I am asking on your own behalf, Sire."

One of the royal eyebrows shoots upwards. "Oh?"

"It wouldn't be advantageous to the reputation of your majesty as a just and wise King", Heinrich continues, "if a servant who only ever did what he was being told is punished for this."

"Is that so," the King says softly. "But the page Marwitz is too old to serve as a page now anyway. I doubt anyone will see anything unusual in me recognizing this fact."

"Pages who have grown out of the age for this service are transferred to other stations," Heinrich points out. "Unless they have disgraced themselves somehow. If Marwitz does not continue in your Majesty's service in another fashion, this is what everyone will assume."

"And I suppose you want him to be transferred into _your_ service," the King says cynically. "Really, brother, if you want to succeed in life, you need to be less transparant."

"I do not wish Marwitz in my own service," Heinrich states without hesitation, and most satisfyingly, his brother, who's been pacing up and down in his study so far, stands still.

"Really."

Heinrich forces himself to stand still, to neither back away or draw nearer again as the King keeps watching him. "He is too much your majesty's servant to serve another lord wholeheartedly, Sire. I prefer to make my own choices."

Their eyes hold. Then the King inclines his head. "Very well," he says. "Marwitz will be transferred to the Royal Guards. Make your own choices, brother. But if they ever manage to be wiser than this one, I should be very surprised."

Thus dismissed, Heinrich finds himself leaving in a mixture of elation and anger. On the one hand, he has won. There will be no further disgrace for the Marwitz family. Antony's service record will be unblemished. On the other, the King has still managed to get the last word, and Heinrich realizes he's petty enough to resent this on general principle.

When he tells Marwitz the good news, he expects Antony to be glad and relieved, which he is. What he doesn't expect is what comes next.

"The Royal Guards, hm?" Antony muses, after the first joyful exclamations have died down, and they're sharing a bottle of champagne in celebration. "Mind you, I might have to sell this office for a profit, sooner or later."

Heinrich stares at him. "Not now, silly," Antony hastily continues, waving his hand. "Just... a man can't marry with the salary of a guard, and there are any number of courtiers who'd pay a lot for an office that brings them closer to the King."

"Marry," Heinrich repeats flatly. Marwitz flushes, but he doesn't take it back.

"Sooner or later," he says. "I do have a family name to continue, you know."

He seems quite surprised when Heinrich asks him to leave, muttering something along the lines of "grow up" and "when did marriage ever stop anyone from having fun?".

This last statement is certainly one with which Heinrich's brother Wilhelm agrees. Wilhelm has married the bride the King told him to marry, but he's never been faithful to her for a single day in their married life. When Heinrich shows up at Wilhelm's residence, still busy sorting out the tangled mess of emotions the last few weeks have left him with, Wilhelm takes a look at him and says: "My word. So it's true."

"Yes, I fell in love like a fool," Heinrich says archly, none too pleased that there's already gossip about it.

"There's no other way of falling in love, little brother," Wilhelm says and carries him off to his study where a fire has been lit. "But that was not what I meant. Rumor has it you've gone head to head with the King and came out successful in your aims. You look at least a year older and more mature than you did when I last saw you, Henri, so I assume it's true. Congratulations!" he finishes, and puts an arm around Heinrich's shoulders, squeezing him tightly. Wilhelm has always been the most physical among them.

Heinrich still can't decide whether he's currently nursing a broken heart, damaged pride or a certain glee about having indeed passed through a trial by fire with the King. But something in him melts as Wilhelm is holding him. He feels like he always does when with the brother he's shared his upbringing with, safe, beloved and protected against whatever adversities life has to offer.

"Thank you," he says, and decides that romantic love might come and go, but family was forever.


End file.
